


To Feel a New Touch (To Smell a New Scent)

by aktura



Series: So It Goes (Some Things Are Meant to Be) [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Dustin Henderson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Implied/Referenced Body Dysmorphia, M/M, Mating, Omega Steve Harrington, Possessive Dustin Henderson, Post-Season/Series 02, Protective Dustin Henderson, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, canon compliant AU, just basically a lot of mention of, puberty issues maybe?, takes place between seasons 2 and 3 so Dustin's 13 but there's no funny business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aktura/pseuds/aktura
Summary: 'Puberty's a bitch.'That’s Steve’s first thought when he opens his front door one morning, ready to go for a run, only to find Dustin curled up on his doormat, fast asleep.In which Steve doesn't date Alphas.
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Dustin Henderson
Series: So It Goes (Some Things Are Meant to Be) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768057
Comments: 20
Kudos: 296





	To Feel a New Touch (To Smell a New Scent)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jeremih's _Starting All Over_, which I've never actually listened to.

//  
  
_Puberty's a bitch._  
  
That’s Steve’s first thought when he opens his front door one morning, ready to go for a run, only to find Dustin curled up on his doormat outside, fast asleep.  
  
To be fair, Steve’s fallen unconscious in worse places, but alcohol was usually involved then, and Dustin doesn’t smell like booze; he smells like prepubescent pup – which Steve’s Omega is hardwired to protect at any cost – verging on something else, something stronger that’s lying in wait beneath the soft pup-scent, just biding its time until the moment Dustin presents.  
  
It’s been hovering around Dustin like a cloud for a while now – around all the pups, if Steve’s to be honest, but Dustin’s scent seems to be by far the predominant one, for whatever reason, growing in strength over the past couple of months. Steve’s sometimes tempted to explore it more closely, to lean down and scent the hinge of Dustin’s jaw just to try to figure it out, but that would be— inappropriate.  
  
So he doesn’t.  
  
He sighs instead, looking down at Dustin, before turning around and walking back into the house; he heads for the kitchen, leaving the front door open, knowing that the smell of freshly made pancakes will rouse Dustin eventually.  
  
//  
  
So the thing is, Steve doesn’t date Alphas.  
  
It’s not— He’s not _sexist_, but...  
  
It’s just that their scent is rotten.  
  
He tried to explain it to Nancy once, but she didn’t really get it.  
  
“Imagine you forget to take the trash out,” he’d said, “and it starts to stink, right? But it happens gradually, and you don’t even really notice because it’s so subtle, and it kinda just becomes part of how your home smells. So you can stand it when you’re there, but then you go outside, and when you come back – that’s when it hits you. It’s kinda like that.”  
  
It’s— It’s a bad analogy or— or metaphor, whatever.  
  
Besides, with Nancy being a Beta, Steve can’t really blame her for not understanding where he’s coming from – or for getting slightly offended on behalf of Alphas everywhere when he compares them to literal trash – because she doesn’t experience these sensations in the same way he does, and the truth is Steve spends most of his days around Alphas – they’re all over school, in his classes and in the hallways, in the businesses and streets of Hawkins – so it can’t be as bad as he makes it out to be, right?  
  
Right.  
  
Steve doesn’t bring it up again, and he doesn’t mention the revulsion he sometimes feels when an Alpha brushes up against him on the basketball court or in the hallway, or how the first thing he does when he comes home in the evening is throw his clothes in the laundry and take a shower just to wash the stink of off him.  
  
_It can’t be normal_, he sometimes thinks, _I can’t be expected to live my life like this_, but none of the books on the topic of dynamics or Omega sexually that he’s been able to find at the library have explored scent as anything other than a part of the bonding process, and Steve’s definitely not doing _that_ anytime soon. And it’s not like he can ask another Omega about it either, because there aren’t actually that many in Hawkins, and the only one he ever really saw around on a regular basis was a girl a couple of years older than him, and she left town almost immediately after graduation.  
  
It’s probably something wrong with Steve, anyway; he suspects that if his parents were home more often then they might notice and send him somewhere to get it checked out, but they aren’t, so they don’t. Instead he takes his showers and does the laundry and tries his best to breathe through his mouth.  
  
And he doesn’t date Alphas.  
  
//  
  
As Steve had predicted, Dustin comes shuffling into the kitchen just as the last of the pancake batter is being poured into the pan, looking rumpled and slightly sheepish. He’s rubbing at his left eye, and there’s a leaf stuck to the curls on one side of his head – Steve plucks it away as Dustin moves past him to collapse into one of the chairs by the kitchen table.  
  
“Sorry,” Dustin says. “About the, uh—”  
  
“S’okay,” Steve murmurs, placing a plate stacked high with pancakes in front of him and running a hand over Dustin’s curls as he steps back to the stove.  
  
He can remember what it was like, those months before he presented; the growth spurts, the heightened metabolism and the bottomless hunger – the strange new instincts that had sprung up from nowhere. Steve hadn’t quite snuck out to sleep on people’s porches, but he’d often found himself in the local park, watching the children play. It had been the Omega in him, he thinks, longing for something to nurture, but he can’t make much sense of Dustin’s new quirks – doesn’t know if he’s seeking Steve out for protection or something else.  
  
“You should’ve come inside,” he says, bringing the pan over to the table so that he can slide the last pancake onto Dustin’s plate to add to the pile. “It’s gonna be cold soon and you can’t keep sleeping out there. I have, like, three guest rooms. You can pick whichever one you want.”  
  
Dustin sets his jaw, shaking his head. “I don’t— No, I need to— to be down here. By the door.”  
  
“Alright,” Steve says. He grabs the maple syrup and the milk and joins Dustin at the table, trying to keep his voice soft. “How about I make up the couch in the downstairs lounge for you? Would that be okay?”  
  
Dustin nods jerkily, looking down at his plate. He’s growing up – all the pups are – and Steve kind of dreads it, because he doesn’t want to force himself to get used to their scents – Dustin’s least of all. He doesn’t want to have to steel himself every time he sees them, in the event any of them turn out to be Alphas, and doesn’t want to find himself longing to wash every hint of them off his person at the end of each day.  
  
And he doesn’t want to give up moments like this – sitting next to Dustin, leaning in close, and still being able to breathe freely – but he also knows that there’s no use worrying about the inevitable, about things he can’t change.  
  
“Eat,” Steve says instead, nudging the syrup in Dustin’s direction, and his inner Omega purrs in satisfaction as Dustin happily tucks in with an appreciative noise.  
  
//  
  
Steve presents his first year of high school.  
  
His parents aren’t around – have been away for a while, and aren’t expected back for longer still – when he finds himself waking up in the middle of the night to a world of pain.  
  
Presenting is never a pleasant thing, but Steve thinks it might be worse still if you have to go through it alone, without anyone there to explain to you what’s going on, or tell you that it’s gonna be alright.  
  
Because that’s what happens; he’s on his own for most of it, wracked with cramps and clawing at the sheets, until the next afternoon when Tommy and Carol come looking because they’ve missed him at school.  
  
They know where the spare key to his house is, and they find him in his bed, wrapped in sheets soaked in sweat and blood, still trembling.  
  
His body’s not his own after that – or at least it doesn’t feel like it. Not for a long while.  
  
//  
  
It starts to become a thing, Steve finding Dustin asleep by the front door in the mornings. Happily, the pup’s at least graduated to sleeping inside now, curled up on the floor in Steve’s hall, wrapped up in a blanket from the couch with a pillow tucked beneath his head, back pressed against the wood of the door.  
  
And it’s— It’s good to have him there. Steve feels good when Dustin’s face, set in a fierce, determined expression even in sleep, is the first thing he sees when he pads down the stairs in the morning. It’s a reminder that they’ll be alright, all of them, even if Steve ends up having to keep them at arm’s length.  
  
It still stops him in his tracks sometimes though, the desire to get closer – to get down on his knees and curl himself around Dustin’s sleeping form and—  
  
But Dustin doesn’t need it – doesn’t need coddling or protecting as badly as Steve craves to— to give it to him, so Steve does the next best thing:  
  
He makes breakfast.  
  
//  
  
For a long time, Steve’s an Omega without a family.  
  
His parents are underwhelmed when they arrive back from their travels to find him not an Alpha, or even a Beta, but something else – something… softer. It’s an outdated way of thinking, of course, and nothing that they’d dare to voice in public, but they’re both Betas themselves, and he suspects that with his proclivity for playing basketball they’d held onto some kind of private, senseless hope of him turning into an Alpha.  
  
But he didn’t, and so they don’t find any reason to change their travel arrangements.  
  
They jet off again the following month, and Steve’s left alone to discover that the oppressive silence of their house suddenly rests heavier on his shoulders than it ever had before; he has no sisters or brothers, no younger cousins to help fill the rooms with noise and life, and the Omega in him – this unknown part of him that he has yet to make peace with – is itching at the fingertips to turn the house into a _home_, no matter how impossible that may be.  
  
So he throws parties instead. Invites all and sundry into his house, and for a while it’s enough – is loud enough that it drowns out the quiet whining in the back of his mind.  
  
But then— then there’s Nancy.  
  
And after that, in the midst of the chaos that follows, he finally meets the pups.  
  
//  
  
“Billy,” Dustin warns, gripping Steve’s wrist and edging himself in front of him so smoothly that Steve doesn’t even realize Dustin’s done it until he tries to step forward and bumps into Dustin’s back.  
  
“Hey!” he says, but Dustin shushes him – honest to God _shushes him_ – and then makes a sound that is— like a mix between a gurgle and a cough, not unlike his impression of that hairy thing from the Star Wars movies.  
  
“Are you— Are you _growling?_” Steve asks.  
  
Dustin snaps his mouth closed and glowers at him, before turning his attention back to across the street where Billy Hargrove is leaning against his Camaro, fangs bared in a slightly off-hinged grin. It’s not really something Hargrove should be doing – flashing his fangs at someone – not in public and especially not at an Omega like Steve, but then again Hargrove’s a psychopath.  
  
Besides, Steve’s not easily offended – he’s never had any delicate sensibilities, and has seen things that would make most Alphas piss themselves in fear; he doesn’t really care about Hargrove’s display, unlike Dustin, it would seem, because the pup is practically vibrating in what is probably righteous indignation, judging by his expression.  
  
“C’mon,” Steve says and wiggles his wrist, which Dustin’s still grasping tighter than is strictly necessary. “Let’s just go.”  
  
Dustin makes that gurgly sound again, promptly flushing bright red when Steve raises an eyebrow at him, but shuts up and lets himself be pushed down the street and around the corner, out of view of Hargrove.  
  
“So what was that about?” Steve asks, carefully prying Dustin’s fingers off.  
  
“He was staring at you,” Dustin mutters, looking at the sky, the sideway, the brick wall next to them – anywhere but at Steve, it would seem.  
  
“Uh,” Steve says, “okay. He’s not anymore, though.”  
  
He tries to pitch his voice low, because maybe Dustin’s still traumatized from witnessing the beatdown Steve suffered at the hands of Hargrove back at the Byers’ house last year.  
  
That’s something else Hargrove shouldn’t have done – put his hands on an Omega in anger, especially one trying to protect its— protect a bunch of pups, but according to Dustin, Steve had given as good as he got; had gone a little feral, actually, snarling and scratching and flashing the yellow in his eyes, not that it had helped him much against a raging Alpha. Steve’s seen the ugly looking scars running across Hargrove’s collarbone and chest though, on days with particularly warm weather and in the showers after basketball practice – deep, jagged claw marks, the spread of which would match up perfectly with Steve’s fingertips, so maybe Dustin is right about what happened.  
  
Anyway, Hargrove doesn’t bother Steve much anymore, apart from snarling at him from afar in some sort of macho Alpha display, but Steve imagines it must have been distressing for Dustin to witness what was basically an Alpha beating an Omega unconscious, especially if you’re a pup in the Omega’s care.  
  
“Are you alright?” he asks, reaching out to touch Dustin’s shoulder, and when Dustin shakes his head, lips pressed together in a tight line, Steve can’t help but tug him closer into a hug. “Hey, c’mere.”  
  
He feels Dustin wrap his arms around him with a sigh, relaxing into the embrace and burying his face in Steve’s shoulder – a pup seeking comfort in an Omega – and Steve turns his head to bury his nose into Dustin’s unruly mop of curls, inhaling deeply and feeling the tension leave his limbs at the smell of pup, of the cinnamon French toast Dustin had for breakfast, and that deep undercurrent of something else, something heady and rich.  
  
Dustin makes a pleased sound, and then he turns his head, forehead bumping against Steve’s cheek, and Steve freezes as Dustin noses his way along the side of his neck, up towards the hinge of Steve’s jaw, pressing his nose against the skin below his ear and inhaling deeply – _scenting_ him.  
  
“Dustin?” Steve says, and his mouth feels dry as a desert all of a sudden, voice nothing but a rasp. He doesn’t dare move.  
  
A shudder runs through the length of Dustin’s body and he wrenches himself away, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand as he glances up at Steve.  
  
“Sorry,” he says, “I— I shouldn’t—”  
  
And it’s true; he shouldn’t have, not without Steve’s consent, because scenting is an intimate gesture, reserved for young pups instinctively seeking comfort from their parents, or something shared between lovers, and Steve’s not— he’s not any of those things to Dustin.  
  
“It’s okay,” he hears himself saying, even though if it had been anyone else – anyone but Dustin – Steve would’ve punched them in the face, “I know it’s confusing—”   
  
For a moment it’s like his mind is teetering on the edge of understanding before it shies back from the ledge, and he can feel Dustin’s gaze on him, as heavy as if it was a physical thing draped across his shoulders.  
  
//  
  
It’s useless to speculate beforehand when it comes to dynamics, because there’s no rhyme or reason to the act of presenting.  
  
Steve’s the son of two Betas, and it was a foregone conclusion that he’d turn out like them – like most people – but nature had a different plan, and he’ll live with the consequences of that flip of the coin forever.  
  
So there’s no use giving it much thought – except when Steve does.  
  
//  
  
It’s dark when he wakes up.  
  
He can barely make out the _2:37_ that blinks at him from the alarm clock on his bedside table, and then he freezes, hair standing up on his arms, because there’s someone in the room with him.  
  
He turns, nearly falling off the bed as he scrambles backwards to get away from the dark silhouette that fills the doorway leading to his room, but then he stills, because it’s only—  
  
“Dustin?” Steve says, crawling off the bed, rushing forward to touch him, because even from a distance he can feel the heat radiating off the pup.  
  
Dustin whimpers, clutching at Steve’s arms as he lets Steve run his hands over his forehead, across his cheeks, into his hair to cup the back of his head.  
  
“Steve,” he groans, pushing forward to rest his forehead against Steve’s shoulder.  
  
Steve can feel him trembling, full body shudders, almost violent spasms along the length of Steve’s body, and it must be painful, must be really bad, judging by how hard Dustin’s gripping Steve’s arms above his elbows, fingers clenching. Steve makes shushing noises, rubbing Dustin’s back the best he can as Dustin gasps into the fabric of Steve’s shirt, breaths coming in almost–sobs now, hot breaths that Steve can feel against his skin.  
  
“Hey,” he says, “hey, you’re burning up, let me—” and gently tilts Dustin’s head back, turning his face into the light coming from the hallway to get a better look at him.  
  
Dustin squeezes his eyes closed as Steve cups his face in his hands, grimacing, and Steve can easily see that his canines have started to descend – baby Alpha-fangs breaking through for the first time, staining Dustin’s gums dark with blood.  
  
“Oh,” Steve breathes, half captivated and half terrified, and his tone of voice must have conveyed as much, because Dustin cracks his eyes open and in the dim light his irises gleam red.  
  
It’s not a complete surprise to Steve that Dustin might present as an Alpha; he’s headstrong and opinionated and independent, and his total disregard for authority figures would’ve made life as an Omega or a Beta somewhat difficult for him, so this is a good thing, even though Steve had hoped that—  
  
He turns his head slightly to brush his nose against Dustin’s curls, trying to chase the sweetness of the pup-smell, but finds that it’s almost indistinguishable now, smothered beneath the harsher scent-tones of fear, pain, and panic.  
  
It’s a bit concerning, because a healthy pup shouldn’t smell that way, and Steve’s Omega whines in distress. His own transition had been— it hadn’t been good. Had been excruciating, to put it mildly, due to all the internal changes that came with presenting as a male Omega – most of which had turned his already fragile teenage self-esteem completely on its head – though he’s heard that it shouldn’t be as bad for Alphas. But looking down at Dustin, blood dripping down the pup’s chin and his breathing still labored, fingers clenching against the skin of Steve’s arms, Steve decides he’s not willing to simply take that at face value.  
  
“C’mon,” he murmurs, walking backwards into his room and gently pulling Dustin with him, nudging the pup towards the bed, “you need to lie down.”  
  
Dustin is docile as he follows – lets himself be coaxed onto the bed, but on the way down he grabs at Steve’s shirt and won’t let go, so Steve drops with him, awkwardly kneeling on the mattress with his left knee pressed up against Dustin’s hip as Dustin just lies there, panting, staring up at him.  
  
Steve reaches over to turn the bedside lamp on, flooding the room with light, closing his eyes against both the brightness and the feeling of Dustin tugging at his shirt, wordlessly begging him to lie down next to him.  
  
And that’s— Dustin shouldn’t have to beg. Steve would never withhold any kind of affection from him, especially when he’s in pain, but it’s a bad idea – such a bad idea, the worst idea Steve’s ever had.  
  
So it’s against his better judgement that Steve gives in to Dustin’s next tug, leaning closer, partly drawn by Dustin’s insistence and partly because he’s no longer able to smother the urge to search out the pup-smell again, to check that it’s still there. Because fuck, he’s gonna miss it when it’s gone – is gonna miss being able to stand having Dustin this close – the sweet, pleasant scent of well fed, healthy, happy pup soothing his inner Omega, letting him know that everything’s alright.  
  
And he feels a kind of despair when he can’t find it anymore, no trace of it lingering in Dustin’s hair or in the sweat by his temple, and can’t help but make a small sound of distress that Dustin mirrors in kind because the smell of pup is gone and Steve already misses it fiercely.  
  
And then in the next moment he doesn’t, because he catches a whiff of something else – something rich and dark and smooth that’s starting to replace the scent-tones of pain and fear. He chases it, powerless to resist, noses his way down to the hinge of Dustin’s jaw, breathing in deeply, and—  
  
It’s like breaking through the surface after spending all of your life underwater, or emerging from a world of smoke and ash to breathe fresh air for the very first time; it feels like something vital Steve never knew he’d been lacking all of his life, like—  
  
Like something slotting into place.  
  
He must’ve drifted away for a while after that, because when he comes back to himself his hand’s clutched tightly in Dustin’s shirt and he’s pressed up alongside the length of Dustin’s body, shaking, small tremors running through him, feeling lightheaded in a pleasant, floaty kind of way.  
  
He’s never been scent-drunk before, but this must be what it feels like, he thinks, as he tries to smother the urge to close his eyes and let it carry him away again. It’s an Alpha-scent, has to be – _Dustin’s_ Alpha-scent, and fuck, Steve’s never experienced one like this before, never wants to smell anything else ever again now that he’s gotten to experience this, wants to spend the rest of the night basking in it and—  
  
“Steve?” Dustin whispers. He sounds afraid, and a bit confused, and fuck, he’s still too young – still almost a pup, even after presenting.  
  
Steve lets go of Dustin’s shirt, tearing himself away as he rolls onto his back, and his Omega makes a noise of distress that Steve has no chance of suppressing – the sound makes Dustin push himself up off the mattress.  
  
“Steve?” he says again, placing a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder, leaning over him so that he can get a better look, protective and alert. “Was it bad? I know that you don’t like— I won’t be mad if you didn’t like it, I promise.”  
  
He sounds sad, and Steve’s Omega wants nothing but to arch its back and show off, show him how much it liked it, wants to rub itself all over Dustin to cover itself in his scent until it can smell nothing else, to let everyone know they belong together, and Steve can’t help it – can’t stop himself from reaching out to cup the back of Dustin’s head, fingers tangling in the curls, and gently pull him closer until Dustin’s nose is bumping at the side of his neck.  
  
When Steve turns his head away with a sigh to give Dustin more room it seems to be all the invitation Dustin needs, because he instinctively nuzzles his way up, inhaling deeply and making a groan of absolute relief and contentment as his body goes limp, flopping down halfway on top of Steve, pressing him into the mattress. Steve floats some more as Dustin nuzzles and sniffs and hesitantly licks at his neck, tasting, carefully scraping his teeth over Steve’s scent-gland, and Steve can do nothing but shiver in pleasure as he lets Dustin do whatever he wants.  
  
They stay like that for a while, Dustin exploring, hand running over Steve’s body, sneaking up beneath his shirt so that he can palm at Steve’s stomach, pulling him close and holding him in place as he presses up against his side, because this is where Steve belongs – with his Alpha, who is Dustin, and fuck, Steve already loves him so much he doesn’t know if he has more to give, only he must have, he _will_ have, because he’s never felt so cherished and wanted and he’ll take everything – anything – Dustin wants to offer him; will take his knot too, one day – will take his bite and let him tie them together forever.  
  
“Alpha,” he murmurs, and Dustin groans in approval against his neck, mouthing at Steve’s scent-gland, and they’re not ready for more – not yet – but Steve suddenly can’t wait to get there.  
  
//  
  
Months later, in the dark of Steve’s bedroom, Dustin will try his best to curl himself around Steve’s taller form and whisper, “Was afraid you’d hate me.”  
  
And Steve will shake his head even though he knows—  
  
“I’d never,” he’ll say, “even if I couldn’t stand your scent I’d never hate you.”  
  
It’s not something he likes to think about anymore, the plans he made before, about what he’d do if any of the pups presented as Alphas. He doesn’t have to, now; he’s covered in Dustin’s scent nowadays, from Dustin rubbing all over him in bed, from hovering close wherever they go, and it helps – Steve can’t smell anyone but his Alpha now, senses overwhelmed by the way Dustin’s scent-marked him, so heady that even Hargrove doesn’t seem to stink anymore.  
  
He loves it – loves _Dustin_, who at thirteen is the first of all of the pups to present. Steve sometimes wonders if he had something to do with it – if Dustin’s Alpha broke through early just because it sensed that its Omega was close, and so tired of waiting.  
  
Either way, Dustin’s possessive and protective from the get go, grudgingly letting his friends close to Steve – letting them touch and hug him – but turning growly and tense whenever other Alphas show too much of an interest.  
  
Steve suspects it might be because they have yet to properly bond, Dustin’s scent-mark the only thing that indicates that Steve is in any way claimed, because the first time Hopper brings El over to the Wheelers' after Dustin presents, and accidentally gets too close to Steve, Dustin just about has a fit, dropping his fangs and snarling so deep that Steve can feel it in his bones. It’s not until Hopper backs off, offering his congratulations to them both and his apologies to Dustin – speaking Alpha to Alpha, showing respect for Dustin’s claim – that Dustin lowers his hackles.  
  
Still, not even El and Mike – who both end up turning Alpha, who end up Alpha-mates – show each other the same kind of intense focus that Dustin shows Steve, like his world’s been narrowed down to one person and one person alone, like nothing and no one else matters much anymore, something that Steve doesn’t have to struggle to reciprocate because he feels it too – the intense need to stay in Dustin’s orbit and never stray too far away.  
  
“You’re mine,” Dustin tells him in the dark, and Steve’s answer is to tilt his head back, to expose his neck so that Dustin can scent him there, so that he can tell that Steve carries no other scent but that of his Alpha.  
  
//  
  
It’s not until later that they get what might be an answer, after they unearth a secret bunker beneath Starcourt Mall and Dustin uses his fingers to rip a man’s throat open for daring to put his hands on Steve.  
  
In the quiet that follows, as they’re all hoarded onto buses and taken away to be questioned about what they’ve seen and heard – as Mrs. Byers fusses over Hopper’s scrapes and bandages, the Alpha soaking up the attention like a sponge, and Steve and Dustin curl up together, exhausted and in pain – Murray takes one look at them and _knows_.  
  
_Bondmates_, he calls them, and in the quiet dark he tells Steve of barbaric things, of studies done, unethical experiments performed by the Nazis in their camps and the communists in their gulags.  
  
Bondmates – unable to stand anyone else, and incapable of being apart.  
  
And Steve looks down at Dustin, plastered up against his side, bloodstained fingers wrapped tightly around Steve’s wrist even in sleep, and thinks, _yeah, that sounds about right_.  
  
//

**Author's Note:**

> Little baby-Alpha!Dustin getting all up in arms over Omega!Steve just tickles me pink.


End file.
